


Sticks And Stones

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-04
Updated: 2006-07-04
Packaged: 2019-02-02 17:40:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12731253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Rock and Roll can really get you in trouble





	Sticks And Stones

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

  
Author's notes: This is set in season 8 and for all intents and purposes it's an AR. Jack and Daniel are a couple, Jack is a General and Janet is alive and well.   


* * *

One tiny slip of the tongue, that’s all it took to completely piss off Dr. Daniel Jackson. Who knew one little endearment would result in me driving all over Colorado Springs trying to find the perfect way to say I’m sorry. 

Now, if I were still married to Sara, it would be easy. Simply go to the florist and buy the biggest bouquet of daisies I can afford. Daisies are her favorites and she always said that I looked so ridiculous holding them, she found it almost impossible to stay mad at me. 

Problem is, you don’t buy flowers for a man, especially one with allergies, not unless you want both the man and his lovely little doctor pissed at you. I thought about chocolate, but Carter always makes sure that Daniel has plenty of that, and Fraiser always makes sure he has the most expensive gourmet coffee. I think she does it out of guilt because she spends so much time poking him with big needles and trying to restrict his caffeine intake. 

Of course I get poked just as often and all I ever get is a lollipop. Okay, so they’re blow-pops and cherry flavored, but the Doc gives those to all of SG-1 with the exception of Teal'c, saying it's something about how we act like children with our whining and complaining. I'm actually trying to talk Fraiser into one of those treasure boxes with the really cool prizes, but for the moment she's sticking with the blow-pops. 

Oh look, a music store, maybe I can find something in there. Come to think of it, music is what got me into this mess in the first place. See, I was driving home after a very long and boring day. Did I mention boring? Get to do anything I want, my ass. 

I spend the majority of my time doing paperwork. Trust me when I say I now get *all* my memos and then some. And my personal assistant, Sergeant Walter Davis, is constantly by my side. He always seems to know what I’m gonna say a half beat before I say it, kinda like that Radar guy from M*A*S*H. Now that I think of it, Radar’s first name was Walter, too. I’m telling you it’s weird and considering where I work, and what I see on a daily basis, that’s saying a lot.

Where was I? Oh yeah, as I was saying, I was driving home listening to one of the so called oldies station and singing along with the tunes wafting out of my speakers. I pulled into my driveway and smiled when I saw Daniel's car. He undoubtedly was inside, already on his second pot of coffee and probably had his nose stuck in some translation. He managed to leave the mountain a little early today, of course he took the translation he was working on home with him, but at least he was willing to come home. Before that whole business with me imitating a Popsicle, getting Daniel to leave when he had work to do (which is all the time, by the way) was harder than convincing Cassie that boys were evil. Now, it’s like he suddenly understands that fighting the good fight isn’t really worth it if you end up going home to an empty house. Whatever the reason, I’m just glad he’s finally learning to relax and that most of the time, he chooses to relax with me.

I walked up to the front door, still singing quietly and looking forward to what I knew would definitely not be a boring night. I opened the door, walked in and tossed my keys in the basket on the table by the door. Daniel's lasagna and his very special blend of dark Italian roast combined to fill the house with a mouth-watering aroma. Taking a deep and appreciative whiff I let my nose lead me to my favorite archeologist/coffee addict. I found him in the kitchen and the sight that greeted me was so much better than finding him with his nose in some odd translation. He was bending over to take the lasagna out of the oven. 

Let me take a minute right now to state that when presented with a view of Daniel’s denim-clad ass, coherent thought goes out the window. He must have heard me swallow my tongue, ‘cause he turned around and smiled. Not just any smile, nooooo, he smiled that smile that always sends everyone, System Lords included, and especially gray-haired generals to their knees. The smile with the dimples. And there went the rest of the brain cells. The man was barefoot, wearing one of those white muscle tees he’s developed a fondness for, and with a hole in his jeans right above his left knee. I think he was trying to kill me.

“Hi,” he said as he put the lasagna on the table, tossed the potholders on the counter and turned to take a couple of steps toward the fridge. That’s when I put my foot in my mouth. Now, I have called Daniel a lot of things over the years and he has never gotten as mad as he did tonight. When I called him Space Monkey in the middle of the gateroom, surrounded by both airmen and   
Marines and Carter and Teal'c, he wasn’t angry. Confused? Sure. To be honest, I’m not even sure where that name came from, I was just so happy to see him, it kinda slipped out. 

When I’m mad and/or frustrated with him, his name is usually “Damnit Daniel” or “Daniel, damnit.” And on one alien-influenced occasion, I called him Plant Boy. I consider myself lucky that I'm the only one he allows to call him Danny boy or Danny, and when we’re all alone, naked and sweaty, his name is usually “ohgodyesfuckmedanielharderharder,” so you can imagine his and my surprise when I opened my mouth and out popped, “Hi, babe.” 

As soon as the words slipped past my lips, I knew I was screwed (and not the way I was hoping for, either). My eyes about jumped outta my head and I started doing my best impersonation of a fish as Daniel slowly turned his head back toward me, his body following the motion and a look of utter disbelief on his face. “Hi, babe?” he asked me. “Hi, babe? Do I look like a ‘babe’ to you, Jack?” His voice was hard as steel.

Now, you and I both know that Daniel Jackson is definitely a “babe,” but for some reason, he can’t stand to be called babe, honey, sweetie or any of those other endearments couples usually bestow upon one another. The only person I have ever seen get away with calling Daniel something besides his given name, is Doc Fraiser, and that’s only when she’s been drinking. Her southern accent comes to the fore and everyone is honey, darlin’ or sugah. Daniel doesn’t even mind then; says it’s hard to get upset with someone as cute as Doc. Gotta admit, Doc is kinda on the cute side when she’s three sheets to the wind and that southern accent. Damn! So Daniel let’s her call him anything she wants. I bet she could even get away with babe, but I don’t think it’s a southern endearment. I, however, promised never to call him any of those names under any circumstance. 

Daniel started advancing toward me, his voice dangerously low “Don’t…” Step.  
“…call…”  
Step.  
“…me…”  
Step.  
“…babe…”  
Step. And with that last threatening step we were practically nose to nose. I opened my mouth to tell him why I had committed such an atrocity, only to have him hold up his index finger and shush me.

“I am not a babe. Janet is a babe.” His thumb went up. “ Sam in her leather jacket and pants bending over a pool table, is a babe.” His finger joined the thumb and we are definitely gonna have to have a little talk about that comment. “Your Sara and my Sarah are both babes.” Two more fingers went up. “Hell, Anise is a babe. Trouble, but a babe none the less.” And the pinky joined the party along with a visual that I so did not need.

“I...” He slamed his now open hand on his chest. “Am not a babe.”

“Daniel, I,...” I was at a loss for words so once again I said the first thing I could think of. "...it’s Styx’s fault.”

“Huh?” he asked, shaking his head as if I had suddenly started speaking Ancient again. “What the Hell does that mean?”

Okay, not the best argument in the world, but it’s the truth. That statement confused him into silence so it bought me a few minutes to attempt to explain myself. I tried to explain to Daniel that the oldies station I was listening to had been playing Styx's song ‘Babe’ just as I was pulling into the driveway, and I picked up the tune and carried it with me into the house. I frantically tried to explain that it was simply a case of getting caught up in the passion of the music, but he had obviously gotten past his initial confusion and was once again rather pissy as he looked at me with those blue eyes blazing, and very simply informed me, “Call me Babe one more time and you’ll be singing along with Mick Jagger about your lack of satisfaction.”

Oooookay, note to self, never ever call Daniel “babe” again. 

All through dinner he kept looking at me and shaking his head, muttering every once in a while, “I can’t believe you called me babe,” and I decided that a gift was in order. Soooo while he was working on his translation, I told him I was gonna go pick up a movie for later and left the house in pursuit of the perfect movie and the perfect gift. I got the movie. That part was easy. “Nate and Hayes” Tommy Lee Jones as a pirate, lots of action, lots of sword fighting and it’s one of Daniel’s favorites. 

Now for the gift. I walk into the music store and head straight back toward the oldies section. Selection in hand, I go back to the front of the store and make my purchase. Styx, Paradise Theater. Hey, Styx got me into this, Styx can damn well get me out. As I climb into my truck, I’m already singing and with any luck, tonight, I will be rocking in paradise.


End file.
